A Different Point of View

No, please, don’t be offended. That’s the best way I can describe it to you. To your poor mind, trapped only able to see three dimensions, while you zip along on a fourth. Four simple dimensions, it’s so limiting.

A worm. That’s what you look like. A pink, fleshy worm. The head of your worm emerges from your mother at the time of your birth, and it stretches along your entire life.

Your worm tangles with other worms along its length. Each time you meet another person, shake their hand, dance with them, you tie an intricate knot. Your lives are tied together at almost every point along your length.

But as interesting as you all are to watch, you’re so much fun to play with as well. Cut the worm, and you experience a complete blackout, only to wake up later. Twist the worm into a loop, and your delightful minds call that, what was it? Oh, yes, “deja vu.”

I tried rotating one of your worms once, but it wasn’t pretty. Have you ever seen a man eighty-seven years tall, with a lifespan of only twenty-three centimetres? That was a little disturbing even to me.

But you, I don’t need to play with you. You’re such an interesting worm, without any interference from me. So many tangles with other worms. So many convoluted knots. And look, just look, at that knot there. At your tail. You’re so close to it. And tied up with so many other worms. It’s just fascinating.